This being human is so lonesome, fearful, angsty, and wearisome at times, with so much we have to process and so much pain we have to bear. Life itself, more filled with pain than pleasure, isn’t what I would naively call beautiful. Yet, in that lonesomeness, in that angst, in that wearisome mess—experiences we wouldn’t have had if we weren’t here—there is something beautiful in being able to express those feelings, in reaching for a hand with the possibility of being seen, heard, and held safely as we are.